Chocolate-Scented Smoke
by BlueLantern'sLight
Summary: I suck at summaries. Basically a dramatic, fluffy-ish Matt/Mello story, from when Matt is first summoned to LA to their eventual deaths. NOTE: The name at the top of each chapter is whose POV that particular chapter is in. I switch during the story.
1. Chapter 1

**M A T T**

"Matt, wake up. You've been sleepwalking again."

The monotonous tones of Near pull me out of my sleep, and I'm not even surprised to see that I'm not where I first started my night. This has become commonplace now - it's been at least a month since my little 'habit' began. And I always wake up in exactly the same place each time. I look up to confirm my suspicions: yep, same spot. Mello's portrait hangs above me, between Near's and my own. The Wammy's House top three, although Mr. Second Place is long gone. A pang ripples through my chest and I let out a noise that's half-sigh, half-groan. I miss Mello so much it actually, physically hurts. It might have been easier to take if he'd have left a note or even mentioned something to me. But no, I woke up on that morning seven months ago to find his side of the bed empty. Technically they're just two single beds, but Mels, being the cheeky slut he is, had insisted we push them together into one once we started dating. To be honest, I actually enjoyed the warmth of someone else as I slept. I still keep them together now, but I can't tell whether it's easing or worsening my grief. It doesn't really matter though, anyway; I'm never in it long before I go walkabout. At first, Roger was concerned that my subconscious wanderings would get me hurt, but it became apparent soon enough that I take the exact same route each time, and that I was in no danger, so they just let me continue. (Well, one night they tried to lock me in , but I woke myself and the entire hallway up trying to break it down. After that they didn't try to stop me again.)

"Your subconscious is fascinating, Matt," Near pipes up again. "Your determination, your persistence, it's-"

It's amazingly unique, like nothing you've ever seen before. I know, Near," I interrupt, my tone streaked with annoyance. I have had the same comments from that albino every time he's caught me from about ten days into my walking. I don't give a damn about how interesting my mind is to others, because all it is to me is tiring and painful. So bloody painful. I use the wall to help me pull myself up from my slumped position and, without another word to that white-haired mini-L I swiftly walk away, not stopping until I reach my room down the hall.

It is then that I stop, grabbing a box of cigarettes from the table before falling onto the bed with a long, gruff sigh. I light one and take a drag, puffing out the smoke in a single dragon breath. Mels had never been keen on me smoking in our room, but he'd tolerated it for me, like I had tolerated his chocolate stash taking up a hell of a lot of space. It's what lovers do, isn't it? You tolerate the flaws in exchange for the good things. So why did Mello disappear?

Some people believe him dead, but I don't. A body was never found, and he'd taken certain little things with him. Yes, a good portion of his stuff had been left behind, but I could see the subtle gaps because I know, or knew, him better than anyone else at this silly orphanage ever has. Although sometimes I feel like believing them. Every time I try to contact Mels or find something of his to hack, there's nothing. Maybe he is actually... gone. Grief swamps me for the thousandth time since he left and I feel the familiar prickling sensation of tears in my eyes. Lying back on the bed I choke out a sob, letting the tears roll. I've tried stopping it before, but it's no use. That blonde boy has messed with my mind big time, and I've learned to come to terms with that.

Suddenly my phone buzzes and I jerk upward, nearly spitting out my half-burnt cigarette in the process. I scrabble for it with numb, gloved fingers and pull my right glove off with my teeth, sliding my phone lock open as I put out my cigarette, which I'm glad I do because I gape when I see the message.

_Get your ass down to Heathrow at 4am tomorrow and take Gate 5's LA flight. The seat's been paid for. I'll explain when you're there. Hope you're still coping, you rusty-haired freak._

At first I'm baffled, but then I see the name at the bottom.

Mello.


	2. Chapter 2

** O**

_Message delivered._

I stare at the small black letters and realize now that I've actually done it; I've managed to get through to Matt after all this time. My little redhead is coming. It's only my phone saying the message went through that, not Matt himself. For all I know he could think it was a fake, or he could be so angered by my betrayal that he chooses to ignore my invitation.

To be honest, I wouldn't blame him if he carried out the latter option. The words in that text may be to the playful tone I've always used around him, but my real emotions are a lot, lot different to that. If I had written it without the old sarcasm it would have been a message of sickeningly bitter pleading, which wouldn't have been convincing of my identity at all. I maybe would have pleaded had I kept my old cell phone number, but changes in recent circumstances have demanded otherwise. So, a correct tone and a name at the end will have to do.

I left my old cell phone, and a lot of my other things, at Wammy's when I left. I'd needed to make a quick exit, so only a few of the bare essentials made it with me, and even then most of them have since been sold or lost somewhere along the way. Los Angeles isn't an easy place for a penniless teenage runaway, so as a result I'm now in with some... odd men, shall we say.

A couple of weeks into my time in America I'd began to steal, and one of the local mafia managed to spot how well I did it (they don't just teach mental agility at Wammy's.) Of course, I wasn't credited much at first. I was the little runt of the pack who did the dirty work for a couple of months, but slowly I've managed to prove myself, and threaten people, in order to get higher up. Now I'm practically on par with their current boss.

My new life has changed me, a lot. I still wear black, but the innocent cotton t-shirts have been replaced by scaly leather vests, and my hair is styled a lot rougher. I carry myself in a way that suggests malice and authority, which has played in my favour. But my demeanour is a mask to parade around in, rather than my constant personal attitude. Even after seven months, betraying Matt is still hurting me, and greatly so.

I read something on the stages of grief and loss once, but it is only now that I'm starting to understand it properly. First comes denial – I know I definitely went through a stage of believing that Matt was secretly not a thousand miles away, and that I hadn't really ran off so far. Second is anger, which is still partly with me. I am so annoyed, no, furious even, not because of the fact that I left (I feel that was the right thing to do), but because I didn't take me redhead with me. Heck, I didn't even tell him about my plan, and that is what I regret the most. He has no idea why I disappeared, and the leaders of Wammy's may well have just passed me off as dead. They have Near, after all. Urgh, that pathetic little albino's name alone makes me want to smash something, and maybe shoot something as well. He's just... too smart. I could never win, even when I studied solidly 48 hours, and I blame him for my need to escape. It's pretty clear that L wanted Near to succeed him, and not me. So if I can build myself up here, I can beat him. I can prove that I am the greatest detective, and that I should be highly renowned. I'll do it.

Not that it's particularly easy doing that, first and foremost because my mind is still lingering on Matt, although that will hopefully change if he comes here. Then secondly, there's the mafia. To put simply, they're idiots who slob around most of the time, and it drives me nuts.

In fact, I soon hear one clumping his way down the hallway and bang on the door. I quickly lock my phone and grab a chocolate bar before striding to the entrance and opening it. "What?"

"You ain't tellin' us nothin'," my underling growls, a cigar in his hand. "You're invitin' someone 'ere, but who is he?"

I glare at him. "If you had been listening, you twit, I told everyone I was inviting in a hacker I used to know," I reply, my voice stern, although on the inside I feel sick for describing my Matt that way.

"But-"

"May I remind you who your superior is here?" I raise a subtly threatening eyebrow.

"You," he mutters.

"Good. You remembered." I bite off a piece of chocolate with a loud snap. "Now, are we done here?"

The mafia opens his mouth to speak, but the look I give him makes him shut it again and walk away. Once he's gone, I close the door again and fall back onto my bed, closing my eyes with a slight smile. I could be seeing Matt again within 48 hours. As long as he's up to loving me again...


End file.
